Morire, Per Favore
by TheMusicManiac
Summary: Italy snaps under the weight of their insults. He's not weak, he'll show them... Sucky summary, but I like to keep things short. Read if you wanna!


Author's Notes: So this was a one shot I actually wrote for my friend's birthday... Yeah, a strange present, I know. But She likes Italy a lot. If you don't like the thought of a non-innocent Italy, I would suggest leaving now. If you're ok with it, GREAT! Read and review please! I absolutely love reviews cuz they make me feel noticed :3

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><p>Feliciano wondered if being kind was a good thing or a bad thing. He was nice to people around him, but they weren't very nice back. Didn't they know the golden rule? He guessed not. But usually when he felt the world was dark and unloving, he let himself drift into his fantasies again, where the world was ruled by Germany, himself, and Japan. Where no one was sad, where there were no wars, where everyone smiled at everybody else in the street and greeted each other gaily, "Come stai?(1) So nice to see you!", leaving with a sing-song, "Ciao!(2)". Though he knew it could never be, what did that matter? That dream kept him happy, and that's all that mattered.<p>

Until one day.

One singular day, Feliciano Vargas decided he'd had enough.

The other countries still bullied him, even with Germany around. Germany smacked them all enough times, but they still fought to claim his territory. The country of Italy had been fought over for decades, maybe even centuries, but no one seemed to let it go. They called him weak and useless, saying he mass-produced white-flags instead of guns for defense. But they didn't understand. Even if it was true that he wasn't the strongest country, he was trying to be closer to that to prove them wrong. But it seemed all he could do was smile and ramble on about things that didn't matter, probably annoying Germany. He loved to talk and chatter and sing, but who cared about that these days? No one, everything was about power and war, no one cared about anyone else but themselves.

Feliciano hated it. He hated every minute of the World Meetings because they weren't anything but fighting, fighting, fighting. He was sitting in one right now, trying to keep his smile painted on and not running away.

"Why don't we use Italy as cannon fodder for the invasion? He can't do anything anyway!" America's voice practically screamed above the rest.

"Idiot, we haven't used cannons in ages!" England bickered just to bicker.

"You knew what I meant! When we run out of people and resources, we can just use the weak little Italian!" He laughed loudly as was his way, and the others joined in. Didn't they realize he was sitting right there? Had the battle so muddled their minds that they couldn't see him, struggling not to cry under the weight of their insults?

As it was, Germany was late. He had said ahead of time that he would be since Prussia was sick, and Feli was going to wait for him before going to the meeting. But being as forgetful as he was he got there at normal time, and now he had to sit through this ALONE. Japan was too reserved and polite to do something, and Romano was trying to call their sister Sicily in the next room, asking why she was late too. Everyone that might stick up for him was gone.

"Look, he's crying, da… The wimpy Italian is crying," Russia cooed, ensuing in more laughter.

"Aw, did we hurt the wittle baby's feewings?" Jeered America.

They weren't themselves, they weren't thinking straight… They would never do this, would they? They were his friends, he thought for sure they were… Or was that only in his fantasies? How could he stop them from tormenting him?

Then all at once, Italy stopped crying and stared blankly at his hands. There was a way… A way to make everything better. Well really there were two options, but only one of them seemed truly appealing. He stood up shakily, his thoughts drowning themselves in a singular one which poured from his mouth between insane giggles:

"Morire(3)… morire…"

Feliciano walked over to America amidst the general shocked and sudden silence. He knew what he needed from the nation, who ironically was younger than he was.

"Abbraccio?(4)" He asked innocently, wearing a sweet smile and spreading his arms wide.

"Um… Does anyone here speak Italian?" He laughed nervously.

Italy just laughed back and embraced the blonde-haired country. Before he could do anything or shove him away, he pulled America's pistol from its holster at his hip and stepped back. Feliciano giggled and held the barrel to Alfred's forehead.

"Dire 'mi dispiace', per favore… o morire." He wore the sweet smile and spoke in his normal, sweet voice, watching America's face turn pale and his blue eyes widen in fear. If someone had looking into Italy's brain at the time, they wouldn't have found anything but his smile. Absolutely nothing.

"Someone tell me what he's saying!" His voice jumped about an octave.

A very worried Romano, who had entered the room again when Italy stood up and had kept silent now translated fearfully,

"Say 'I'm sorry' please… or die."

"Dude I'm sorry! I'm sorry I called you weak and stuff, just don't shoot me please!" It was satisfying somehow to hear America beg for his life.

But with is head tilted to the side a little, Italy cocked the pistol without a flinch and said,

"Too late." He released the energy in his finger and pulled the trigger, the sound resonating in the room.

America fell dead at his feet, a pool of blood accumulating around his head like a nimbus in the Renaissance paintings. Except it was red instead of gold.

Italy laughed insanely and stared at the gun without seeing it, only imagining how much better of a place the world would be with only Germany, Japan, and himself to rule it. Maybe Romano could come too; he was undecided on that.

Another shot fired in South Italy's direction. Maybe not so undecided. Surely he regretted nothing.

Turning to face his brother suddenly, he screamed, "Who is an idiota ragazza(5) now?!" Another bullet and Romano was on the floor clutching his arm with blood soaking his sleeve and seeping through his fingers.

NOW they feared him… Now they wouldn't call him weak. They came at him, trying to make him put the gun down, but Italy couldn't think straight enough to do that. The only word out of his mouth was slowly getting louder as he repeated it as endlessly as the bullets were fired aimlessly.

"Morire, morire, MORIRE!"

Finally, he stopped, his vision too blurry to continue. Japan saw a chance and ran to his side as he collapsed to his knees, slipping the gun into his own hands and onto the floor away from the crazed Italian.

When Feli looked at Japan's hands on his own, he really didn't see them. He only saw the world he wanted; a world of light and happiness with not a care in the world and no bullies. Nothing to do with the Asian man's hands. He smiled anyway.

But when he gazed into Japan's concerned brown eyes, he saw what he had created by losing control: tears flooded his face as he saw the fear, the hurt, the worry. Kiku wanted to run away, he could tell, but somehow he was still here, calming Italy down in Germany's absence.

"Italy? Are you… okay now?" His voice was, for once, slightly unstable.

Feliciano threw his arms around the man and sobbed, "Mi dispiace, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I didn't want this! I just wanted him to apologize, I didn't want to be hurt by them anymore… I wanted to prove I'm strong…"

The other countries slowly peaked out from behind chairs and from under the table. A few had been grazed or shot in non-vital places, but there was only one fatality among them. America, still wide-eyed in frozen fear with blood soaking his sun-coloured locks.

Italy couldn't believe himself. His mind had snapped and… he's hurt people, much worse than anyone had ever hurt him. They would always remember this, and so would he. His hysterical crying echoes in the silence, and he heard Japan say softly,

"You were the strongest of us all before this… Because you could smile at the world even when it seemed to hate you. That is strength."

Italy couldn't even respond, but his heart cried out, "Thank you…"

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><p>End notes: So just so you know, the ending was originally different, but I wanted Japan to say the line about smiling, so I changed the end. There was also a thingy that said why they were talking about a war in the meeting, but that is something I'm working on that has nothing to do with this, so I excluded it. Again, reviews are awesome!<p>

(1) How are you?

(2) Hello or goodbye

(3) Die

(4) Basically means "hug", so he's asking for a hug

(5) idiot girl


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